


Petals for Armor

by BeautifulEulogy



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And there is plenty of Steve/Nat Clint/Nat Bruce/Nat closeness, Brutasha - Freeform, But it has it’s dark demons as well...so buckle up babies!, But the central relationship that is tested in this fic is Bucky/Nat, Clintasha - Freeform, Dealing with forced sterilization and the emotional toll that took on Natasha, Depression, F/M, Gen, I like to balance my darkness with hope so fear not, I love it all and I write it all, I ship Natasha Romanoff and Happiness, Lots of trigger warnings please only read if you are comfortable reading, MCU canon compliant through CACW, Marvel Cinematic Universe - Freeform, Multi, Natasha deserves happiness and happiness is what she will get, Natasha deserves to be happy and that’s all I care about!!!, Pre-Civil War Avengers, SO MUCH HAPPINESS, Self Loathing, So be warned...there will be mentions of child abuse, Speaking of testing...ANGST!, Suicidal Thoughts, There is also going to be SO MUCH FLUFF, This fic will end happy and I have so much fluffy deliciousness prepared, This story deals heavily with Natasha’s past which is very sad and very dark, Violence against children and adults, While there is angst it is not an angstfest, and happiness!, as well as many descriptions of trauma, bucky/nat - Freeform, but also know that there will be tons of fluff and domestic goodness to balance out the dark, descriptions of violence abuse and murder, however, mcu - Freeform, non-consensual procedures involving children and adults, so trigger warnings, steve/nat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24452188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulEulogy/pseuds/BeautifulEulogy
Summary: Natalia Alianovna Romanova enjoys her day off just like any other Avenger, but when her morning is interrupted by Nick Fury delivering news that halts Natasha’s whole world, she is suddenly faced with the most important mission of her career. The lives of innocent girls are at stake, and a chance for vengeance and redemption lie only a plane ride away. She has faced corrupt empires, sadistic murderers, selfish supremacists who get rich at the expense of others, men who are closer to pigs than people, aliens, and the threat of death almost every day that she has been alive, yet nothing has prepared her for the nightmare ahead, or what secrets she’ll uncover in her quest for revenge. Yet there is hope. She was an orphan, raised by brutal murderers who carved her into a weapon of mass destruction, but she found a family in the Avengers anyway. If she can find that for herself then maybe she can give it to innocent lives who deserve it too. She might even be capable of being that family...Yes, Natasha Romanoff has seen hell, but maybe, just maybe...heaven still waits in her future.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanoff/Avengers, Natasha Romanoff/Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff/Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff/OC (children), Natasha Romanoff/Steve Rogers
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	1. Ready or Not

**Author's Note:**

> There are some ideas that just won’t stop nagging your brain no matter how much you try to ignore them. This idea was one of those. So I finally sat down and started writing it...and then it decided that it wanted to be posted. So I made an AO3 and here we are! My first published fic! A scary yet exhilarating thought! And to make things even more spicy I made a Tumblr as a companion to this account so check out beautiful-eulogy on tumblr.com if you want to find updates on this fic, other content, fic playlists, and stories as I continue this writing thing!
> 
> So anyway more about this story...
> 
> I titled this piece Petals for Armor because of Haley Williams new album. Specifically the track Simmer brought this idea into my mind. I am a massive Marvel fan, and Natasha Romanoff is by far my favorite character. I really feel like during and after Age of Ultron the way Natasha was written and treated became exhausting. She is such a powerful, badass, complex character who deserves agency and writing that shows her depth and range as a person. So this fic is me trying to give her that. I never hated the sterilization as a part of her backstory, but I hated the way it was handled and discussed in film. I loved the complexity that this softer desire for a normal life and family brought to Natasha, but the notion that she is somehow destroyed goods or a monster because she cannot bare children is ridiculous and has no place in my canon. I wanted a story that discussed and explored Natasha’s struggle with her forced sterilization, and the other atrocities forced upon her in the Red Room, with dignity and female perspective. As I sat in the desire for that story I also thought of another female character who faced similar mistreatment at the hands of male writers and had an eerily similar plot line...Dana Scully from The X Files, of which I am also a huge fan. And so that realization and thought is what birthed this story...I know that doesn’t make much sense now, but for the sake of not showing my whole deck of tricks I’ll leave it there. That comparison will make sense as this story unfolds. I promise. 
> 
> I am so thrilled you are here and I hope you enjoy this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it! Without any more rambling from me...here we go! Chapter One! I now present my labor of love to Natasha Romanoff: Petals for Armor.

_ **One: Ready or Not** _

**Avengers Compound 11 PM**

Natasha settles back into her chair slowly, inhaling deeply the aroma coming from the steaming cup of tea in her hands. She’s hoping the strength and warmth of the tea eases the dull throbbing pain now residing underneath her right temple, or at the very least that it will distract her from it. She forgot how much sparring with Clint could hurt when she let the rare accidental misstep happen in the ring.

The blow to her head that was already in the early stages of bruising, hurt less than the blow to her pride. If there was one person she relished the opportunity to spar with it was Clint, because while his senses are the sharpest of any man she knew, they have never been as keen as her own. Not when it comes to close combat anyway. He always gives her one hell of a fight, but is never quite capable of physically outmaneuvering her...well almost never. On the rare, one in a thousand sparring matches where she miscalculates ever so slightly, Clint with his ever vigilant keen eyesight, will seize the final blow—and Natasha suffers the consequences until the next spar. Not physical consequences, as she has always healed quickly due to her enhanced nature, but the fact that she must endure endless teasing from her best friend about how the famous Black Widow was bested by someone who, while feared for his long range attacks, is a few ticks below her when it comes to hand-to-hand combat.

Clint knows that he is the only person in the world who can get away with teasing her about a loss without suffering her wrath fully, because he knows that she knows that his opinion of her is not truly altered. Natasha knows deep down that none of her teammates would think any less of her ever for a loss, and even deeper down she secretly loves the teasing and joking from the team because it makes them feel more and more like her family. But she can’t let that enjoyment be known otherwise the boys would dial down out of shock and switch to new tactics to annoy her. So Natasha maintains her carefully curated annoyance, which she currently is building up to counter Clint in the morning at breakfast.

Tomorrow she’ll be ready for round two, and her chance to reclaim her title as the resident reigning champion of sparring. But for now she sips her tea, thinking about her best friend, and the look on his face tomorrow when she knocks him on his ass in front of every Avenger in the compound. Every bruise will be worth that moment. She smiles as she finishes off the cup, and rises to shower before turning in. She has a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a good day.

> * * *

**6 AM**

Natasha awakes the next morning as she always does, relishing in a nice stretch after her eyes creak open at six on the dot. She has always prided herself in the accuracy and efficiency of her internal clock. It’s developed over a lifetime of rigorous training and time sensitive missions, and it never fails to wake her early. Even on her days off. A blessing and a curse because she never gets a day to sleep in even if she’s up late, but she also gets the facility to herself for a few hours before everyone else begrudgingly wakes and stumbles to the kitchen for breakfast. This precious alone time gives her the breathing room she needs to eat, do her morning workout, and shower in peace before any of the compounds other inhabitants are up. It allows her the freedom to just be Natasha and not Black Widow for a few hours.

With her mind on the ticking minutes of her coveted time alone, she rises and makes her way down to the kitchen in the first floor living area to enjoy eating her breakfast of mixed fruit, yogurt, cinnamon oatmeal, summer sausage, eggs, and black coffee in her pajamas. Once the team is awake, the boys usually deplete the kitchen supplies and hog the meat, so she enjoys the opportunity to eat her fill and energize herself for the day ahead while surrounded by peace and quiet. After cleaning her plate and putting the dishes and utensils back in their proper places, she makes her way back up to the second floor and into her room to change for her morning workout.

Donning her favorite tank top and leggings, Natasha moves to the fully outfitted gym that Tony so graciously built to be the entire left wing of their new headquarters. The first floor branching off of the kitchen housed their sparring ring, weights, boxing equipment, and anything else required for hand-to-hand combat training. The second floor, just off the hallways containing their bedrooms, is a fully padded mile running track that encircled and looked down on the floor below and could be converted into an obstacle course when needed. The third floor, located off of the labs, offices, and conference rooms, is an area designed for aerial combat and flight training. The roof here is domed to allow for flight pattern, aircraft simulations, and also maintains a visual on the floors below. Tony says the open floor plan is because he enjoys a nice scenic balcony and likes being able to see floor training, jogging, and flight practice all at the same time, but they all know it’s because he doesn’t want to constantly rebuild the floor every time the Hulk decides to smash in a fight.

Natasha’s destination is the second floor, in order to get a run in before doing some floor training. She loves beginning her morning with a ten-mile run to get her blood pumping and her mind and body focused. So she slips her earbuds in and takes off, easing up to her top speed within a few minutes and eventually cruising up past that speed to push herself and see if she can beat her own time. By the time she’s slowed to a halt after her final lap, she is drenched in sweat and can feel the beating of her pulse in her ears. She checks her watch—thirty seconds faster than yesterday. She smirks, guzzles some water from her bottle, and heads down to the ring to go a few rounds with the weighted dummies that Stark designed for her martial training.

After another forty-five minutes of punches, kicks, flips, and body slams, Natasha finally feels fully awake and can feel her senses sending signals through her body to keep her prepped for action and alert to changes around her. The Black Widow is awake and ready to face the day and any surprises it may bring. She glances at her watch and knows she has just enough time to shower and get back to the main room before the boys arrive to hungrily devour a morning meal. With a smile on her face and a lightness to her step, Natasha bounds to her room to clean up and spend the day with her family.

**9** **AM**

Natasha makes it back downstairs to the common areas by nine o’ clock as one by one, her housemates trickle in to begin eating. Steve, Bucky, Rhodey, and Sam arrive first, drenched in sweat from their morning jog, and laughing as they swap stories about military life and “the good ole days”. They are followed by the Vision, Wanda, Bruce, and a still groggy Tony straggling behind, mumbling something about sleeping longer on his day off. Clint and Thor bring up the rear as they are the notorious late risers when the team is in downtime. Most of them are either in their civilian clothes (or pajamas, if you’re Tony). By nine-thirty, everyone has acquired their favorite foods and has settled at the massive dining table, joking and talking about plans for their off day. By ten o’ clock, Thor and Clint are locked in a cage match to see who can fit the most bacon in his mouth at once. By ten-thirty, everyone is laughing as Clint slumps over, looking on the verge of vomiting while Thor downs what must have been his hundredth piece of the morning with a victorious grin. Natasha rises from her place at the table and walks over to Clint’s regretful form and gives him a pat on the back.

“Clint, why do you always do this to yourself? You know that Thor has enough room in his stomach for the entire pig.”

He glances up about to respond, and for a moment it looks as if vomit may spew instead of words. “You know I can never turn away from a challenge”—he pauses to compose himself against the rising bile he’s visibly fighting—“but there’s always a chance he’s having an off day.” His eyes suddenly flash with mischief. “You know, like you were having last night?” At this quip, Natasha can see his shit-eating grin, and she knows he’s trying to rile her up to distract himself from his nausea. She maintains her composure and responds by simply digging her hand a little deeper into his shoulder, right near the pressure point between the shoulder blade and the neck.

“You may want to tread carefully, Barton. I’d hate to hurt you too much before tonight.” At her remark, the conversation at the table dies down as all their friends focus on their bickering with looks of amusement.

His smile shrinks to a smirk as he tries to play dumb. “Tonight? I’m not sure what you mean. I don’t have anything on the schedule for tonight.”

She digs a little deeper, not enough to seriously hurt him, but enough to give her partner the thrill of terror at her public challenge. “There’s nothing on the schedule because I’m adding it now. You. Me. Rematch. Tonight.”

He winces just slightly, and he feigns mulling over her offer just to annoy her—before returning to his casual smolder. “Alright, fine. If that’ll ease the infamous Black Widow’s pride at getting her ass handed to her, then sure. I can take another dance or two in the ring.” He extends his hand to her, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Natasha releases her grip while rolling her eyes, and reaches out her hand to shake his. Clasping his hand and forearm, she smirks and uses her weight to wrench him away from the table, arcing him over her head in a body slam. Letting go at the exclamations of “ooooh” from the table and the sound of Clint slapping the marble flooring, she rises. Natasha pretends to dust off, and as she begins to walk away, she retorts: “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty, dear, so practice your tango. I like my dancing fast and—”

Her snarky reply is interrupted by Maria Hill, exiting the elevator to the second floor and walking toward them. “Whatever date you’re planning, Romanoff, cancel it. Fury wants to speak with you in his office about...” She pauses. “An assignment.”

Maria looks no different than usual, but there is a subtle undercurrent in her voice that causes Natasha to hold back whatever retort she had been about to make about Fury always interrupting her plans. She notices all of this in only a moment, and she steels herself to respond with an assured tone. “Tell him I’ll be there in ten. Thanks Hill.”

Maria gives her a curt nod and a small smile that doesn’t quite touch her eyes, before turning around and heading back to the elevator. Natasha turns her attention back to the group, noticing Clint has scraped himself off the floor and is leaning casually against the kitchen counter several feet away. His eyes, as well as most of the others, bear into hers for a moment after Maria’s mandate. She smirks, trying to ease the sudden tension at the idea that something could be serious enough to call her in on their one day off. “Guess our rematch will have to wait.”

He stares a moment more before giving a patronizing chuckle. “That’s just as well, Nat. I didn’t want to kick your ass two days in a row.” He smirks. “That hardly seems fair.”

“Watch it, Barton. When I get back, you’ll regret those words.” He raises his eyebrows at her, and they both smile.

“You better get up there before the boss man gets antsy. We’ll save you a spot in the rink.”

She gives him a genuinely warm smile. “Thanks Clint.” She turns and walks to the elevator, hitting the button. She calls over her shoulder while she waits: “You all try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone. I’d hate to come back to a mess!” She hears a chorus of scoffing and laughter as the elevator opens with a ding. Natasha enters and selects the third floor button. As soon as the doors close, she steels herself for what lies ahead. For Fury to only ask for her, and to see Hill so shaken—whatever this is, it’s serious, and that scares Natasha more than she would care to admit.

* * *

As soon as the elevator dings open to the third floor, Natasha is greeted by the surprised looks of several agents waiting outside the door. Agents usually give her a wide berth when it comes to work because they know she likes her space and isn’t one for small talk, so with a curt nod she easily steps through them and hangs a left toward Fury’s resident office space.

Neither he nor Hill live in the Compound, but they had both requested office space and rooms for the occasions when they find themselves needing to spend time there. Natasha spends the most time in Fury’s office because she’s the only one who technically still goes on assignments for him, so she doesn’t even need to think about where she’s going. She takes a right, walks to the end of the hall before going left, and walks all the way to the end of this corridor. Fury’s office is the last door on the left. He had requested a room with a view, so Stark put him overlooking the east field.

The office is significantly smaller than his S.H.I.E.L.D. office was, but it is just as clean and bare. No art, no office supplies, no filing cabinets. Just his desk, his black leather chair, and a computer. Fury stands at the window looking out when she reaches the open door. She knows that he knows she’s there, but she doesn’t enter. She just watches and waits for him to speak. He doesn’t turn or move, but after several moments of the silence between them, she hears his calm, collected voice.

“Come in, and close the door behind you, Natasha.” She hesitates only a fraction of a moment, contemplating the need for secrecy, but then she steps through the threshold and quietly closes the door behind her. She turns and waits but remains silent, choosing instead to watch him. His posture is relaxed and his breathing is even. Coupled with the calmness of his tone, anyone would say there was nothing wrong, but Natasha knew better than that. His hands are clasped behind his back, and his grip is ever-so-slightly too tight. That’s his tell. Something has Nick Fury concerned, and that in turn makes her very concerned.

He finally turns to look at her, his good eye appearing casual but reflecting a deep intensity only perceptible to someone with her training. He gestures toward the second chair in front of his desk as he moves to take his own seat. “Please sit, Agent Romanoff.”

She doesn’t move, but crosses her arms while looking directly at him, “The last time you were this bad at faking pleasantries, you got blown up in Rogers’ apartment. Cut the bullshit and tell me why I’m here on my day off, Nick.”

He smiles in his knowing way. “I have no idea what you’re referring to, Natasha. I’m always pleasant. Now please, have a seat. With what I’ve brought, you’re gonna wanna have a chair.”

She sighs with an eye roll but complies, settling into the cool leather of the chair. Fury takes this as his cue to proceed.

“We’ve had a breakthrough in an old case file I thought you’d want to know about. Officially, this record was destroyed, but I managed to make a copy before S.H.I.E.L.D. went underground.” He pulls an old, weathered file from his coat and slides it across the desk toward her. “You may remember this particular case because—well, you opened it.”

Natasha barely registers his words because she’s gone stiff looking at the number printed on the front of the file. Of course she remembered opening this investigation. There was a time where this case was her life’s work. She was sure she’d never see it again after all of her leads went cold eight years ago, and she’s not sure whether to be thrilled or terrified at Fury’s news that the trail has suddenly become warm. She had put her burning desire for vengeance to rest, and while finally receiving a potential line to retribution for all of her suffering sounded like her opportunity to earn her peace at long last, she is weary to open this door again. To allow the emotions she has worked so hard to bury deep to unleash their full power on her, to tantalize her with the chance to finally close this haunting chapter and cleanse her ledger of its red at the source. All of this thought over a plain manila folder, but to her, it is the most weighted in the world. Case RR-3016, the formal investigation she launched upon joining S.H.I.E.L.D.—to hunt down and destroy the Red Room.

* * *


	2. Simmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this far! This chapter is a short one because as you will see I love cliff hangers! I am trying to post on a weekly schedule but given that life happens there may be some weeks where I post two chapters at once, and some that have larger gaps between posts. But I am trying to pace and schedule myself! 
> 
> If you want to keep up to date with my postings and updates please follow me on tumblr @beautiful_eulogy. I will post chapters and updates there as well as bonus content and other fun things related to my fandoms and stories! There is a playlist I will be posting there soon related to this story, and that playlist is not only what inspired the name of this fic, but also gave me my chapter titles as well. So if you are curious about what kind of music I imagine Natasha listens to then look for that on my tumblr soon! Thank you again for reading! Please leave comments and feedback if you feel so inclined as it is very helpful for me as a writer to hear from you all! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I’ll see you all at Chapter Three... Don’t Panic.

_**Two** _

The only sound in Natasha’s head for several seconds is the thrumming beat of her pulse in her ears. She quickly composes herself and tunes back in to the moment. Fury sits silently with his hands folded on his desk, his eyes boring into her own, waiting patiently for her to take in this bomb he’s dropped on her. After several tense moments of Natasha clenching and unclenching her jaw while she thinks, Fury speaks. “Natasha, I know this is a lot of information to just—“

“What’s your source?” she cuts him off, wasting no time with apologies.

He doesn’t flinch—instead he raises his brow in concern. “Natasha, I don’t want you to—

She cuts him off again with an eye roll. “What, Nick? Get my hopes up? I learned a long time ago not to let that happen and you know that.” She pauses for a moment, leaning forward in her chair. “No. I won’t even entertain hope until I hear your intel, so enough dancing around my question. You obviously believe the source is reliable, or you wouldn’t be here to give this to me.” At that, she glances at the file. From the look on his face, she knows that she’s right—so she waits for his response.

He huffs with a shake of his head before opening the file in front of her. The first thing she notices is that the top page is a recent addition. The first entry at the top is dated five months ago. Fury begins, pointing to this section.

“Five months ago, we received an encrypted report from an agent named Allen Langford who was assigned a deep cover mission with a smuggling ring called Dalia. They rose to prominence in the underbelly of Europe over the past two years for selling and trading in human cargo. They sold to a known HYDRA supporter in Samara a year ago which put them on our radar. Langford had been undercover for almost six months learning their patterns, popular spots, and contacts so that we could strike and bust their leader Viktor Yahontov.” He points to a specific passage of text, and she leans closer to read as he continues to speak. “Two weeks before the received report, his coms went dead. We lost all contact and had no choice but to presume agent Langford killed or missing in action—until this data showed up.” Fury slides the file closer to her, continuing his debrief.

“He was assigned to a Dalia patrol unit tasked with guarding a shipment of young girls at a holding site. We had a plan for him to run interference to get the girls out before Yahontov arrived in the morning to inspect them, but he never made his rendezvous point because someone attacked their unit. According to his message, no one ever saw the assailants. They came in, took out the patrol, and made off with the girls before anyone came to. Viktor suspected a rat, so he cut his men off from outside communication until he eliminated his mole, but as soon as access was reinstated, we received the SOS from Agent Langford. The assailants were fast, organized, and knew exactly how and where to strike them.” Nick’s finger trails down the page. “We began digging after that, and we found a pattern over the next few months. Once a month, a ring would be hit with the same MO. No casualties, just whopping headaches and missing cargo. Girls, but also tech, weapons, and chemicals.”

The entire time Nick has been explaining, Natasha has been making connections between his words and the report in front of her. She doesn’t like the conclusion her mind is drawing, but she needs more details before she can definitively believe this is the Red Room’s work. She asks her most pressing question first, maintaining a steady and serious tone: “How old are the stolen girls?”

She can see the burning anger and disgust behind his answer. “All between the ages of two and twelve.”

Her heart sinks in her chest. That’s definitely Dreykov’s preferred age range for the girls that he puts in the academy. He likes to acquire them young; it makes breaking them, brainwashing them, and molding them in his image easier. She feels sick at the thought of that man’s name, but she presses on with her questions, her tone more disgusted and angry than before. “That sounds like Dreykov, but Nick—there are hundreds of vile people who would have a reason to steal those girls and equipment from Dalia, and other organizations like them. I don’t see any definitive proof of the Red Room’s involvement in this. Plus, it doesn’t make sense for them to show themselves now when they’ve had years of opportunity to reboot operations. I will gladly do the mission to save those girls and stop whatever these people are planning if that’s what you’re asking, but don’t offer me the hope of taking down Dreykov without finding out for damn sure that it’s him doing these things!” She doesn’t remember standing up, but at some point during her speaking, her body rose along with her voice. She wasn’t trying to let her emotions best her, but she has spent too many years with Dreykov’s shadow following her to throw herself into this, guns blazing, without knowing for sure that she will be able to be rid of him this time.

Fury hasn’t budged once during her rant. He lets her finish, respecting that this is a sensitive and volatile topic for her, hearing her out and allowing her this expression of years of hidden rage. After she ends, and stands there breathing heavily, he reaches over and turns his computer monitor around to face her. “Natasha”—he looks at her now as her friend and her mentor, not as her boss.—“You know that I would never give you hope if I didn’t know that I could follow through.”

She softens at the look he gives her, and a moment passes between them. Fury, in her mind, is the only father in her life that matters. She trusts him. She knows he is telling her the truth, and that he would have gathered conclusive intelligence before bringing this to her attention. Without breaking the eye contact, she lowers herself back into the chair and gives a small nod as a signal for him to continue. He lets out a breath and nods back before gesturing to the screen and continuing.

“Langford mentioned that Yahontov found the mole and disposed of him. Once we fully decrypted his message we discovered the name of that mole. Langford called him Shep Vetos, because that was the name on his record when he joined Dalia. But turns out, that isn’t his real name. Shep Vetos is actually—“

“—Shelepov Kvetoslav.“ She sits up straighter as she interjects, knowing that alias from somewhere deep within the recesses in her mind.

Fury is taken aback by her outburst, but doesn’t look fully surprised that she knows the name. “Right. All we found was that he has a very long record that includes ties to both HYDRA and the KGB. What can you tell me about him, Natasha?”

She pauses for only a moment. “Shelepov was one of the trainees in a program for boys that was created by Dreykov and the Red Room in response to the Black Widow program’s success. It was called the Wolf Spider initiative. Boys, orphans and kidnappees like us, were ruthlessly trained in the ways of espionage, spy craft, and combat. Just like us they were brainwashed and given false memories to solidify their loyalty and ruthlessness. But the program was ultimately shut down because these young men proved to be too volatile to control. It was concluded that women are better with emotional prowess, and are therefore easier to manipulate. So the program was dissolved, and most of the recruits were either killed or shipped off to God knows where.” She deems that enough information for Fury to be satisfied and waits for his response.

He takes in this new information with a raise of his eyebrows. “Well, it seems that this Shelepov survived, and has re-established contact with someone inside the Red Room. Or at least, they re-established contact with him. He was the mole who leaked the transfer spot and the location of the girls back to these people. He died to get those girls to them. Which brings me to you, Natasha. This not only seems legit, but it means that the Red Room has revived the program. And they’re not only tracking down their old operatives, but they’re making new ones. They’ve taken a total of fifty girls so far.”

Her breath catches at that. “That’s double the number from when I was in the academy!”

He nods. “Which means that they’re planning something big. Something very big. And I for one don’t want to wait to find out what it is. Natasha I’m not just here as a friend to offer you the chance at revenge. I’m here as your boss, offering this cause you’re the only agent...the only person I trust to bring them down, and save innocent lives. You’ve told me about the hell you faced there, and I know you want to save those girls from a similar fate. Which is why I’m re-opening your case file and giving you point on this, Natasha.”

Hearing all of this brings memories that she keeps locked away rushing back into her mind. Her room, a dark prison cell that swallowed her up at the end of every day. Handcuffs, dangling from the headboard, a reminder that freedom was something she would never have. Blisters, broken bones, and bruises—battle marks from their rigorous regime of brainwashing, combat training, classes, and the punishments when their performances was unsatisfactory. Faces—the faces of her classmates, her sisters...dead. One by one, they were felled by her own hands as a punishment, for their failure and her success. Each day she was a part of the Red Room was another day that she wished she had never been born. No child deserves to suffer that. Taken from one nightmarish reality to another. Will the innocent ever be safe in this world of monsters and cruelty?

Nick is right. If this truly is the Red Room returning to the surface, then this isn’t only Natasha’s shot at taking them down for good—it’s her chance to save innocent girls from suffering the fate that she and so many others suffered. She could never forgive herself if she didn’t take it. She squares her shoulders and rises, her stance calm but assured. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s bring these bastards the justice they deserve.”

He gives her a proud nod and a smirk, handing the file to her. “I was hoping you’d say that. Here’s your file back, Agent Romanoff. I’ll have Hill give you clearance for everything else we’ve gathered so far. You have forty-eight hours to gather your team, and be ready for debrief. All clearance comes through me, but this is your expertise and your fight. Anything you need from me, you’ve got. Understood?”

She smiles at him. “Understood, Director Fury.”

He gives her a nod of dismissal, turning back to go to the window. As she heads for the door she stops and turns. “And Nick”—he pauses but doesn’t face her—“Thank you.”

There is a moment as her rare sign of affection hangs in the air. He still does not turn, but she hears the soft, “You’re welcome, Natasha.”

She smiles and moves through the doorway, walking swiftly toward the direction of her quarters. This is so much to process, and she needs time to read the full report and prepare herself to gather her team. But there is another matter of business she needs to look into before dealing with the main factors in this case. Natasha, despite popular belief, does not enjoy keeping secrets from the ones she loves. However, not divulging the entire truth at once is often necessary so that one can gather their bearings and achieve a fuller understanding of a situation before involving others. There was one key piece of information that Natasha intentionally kept from Fury for this reason. Information that she needs to speak with a certain metal-armed soldier about before she reveals anything, because she’s still not sure how this particular situation is possible.

Natasha knows the name Shelepov Kvetoslav, not only because he was a Wolf Spider, but because he was once her partner for several training missions. And when the program was terminated along with its subjects, Natasha was ultimately the one who killed him. Shelepov Kvetoslav died almost fifteen years ago. She has a strange feeling that it’s no coincidence that someone is using that name. Could it be a message for her? Or maybe it’s a warning. And if so, who is sending it—and why?

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> First a quick thank you to my incredible Beta on this project [LauraNightingale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraNightingale/pseuds/LauraNightingale)!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this story! I would love to hear from you all! Like I’ve mentioned this is my first fic that I’m actually publishing, so feedback, comments, and reviews are not only welcomed they are much appreciated! If you like what you’re reading please keep your eyes peeled here and on my tumblr beautiful-eulogy for updates, news, and other companion content! Have a fantastic day/night and I’ll see you all at the next upload!


End file.
